Reading Seventeen Pebbles by Jane Hirshfield took me back to a time long ago when I loved collecting pebbles whenever I visited a new place. It was my kind of memento. Sometimes leaves, sea shells and twigs would be added to give more definition to my memories.
As I was to find out, pebbles are not so different from one another even I found them a thousand miles apart. Once inside my box of "treasures" I could not tell the places apart. Hirshfield's pebbles unlike mine are as distinctive as they are beautiful.
After Degas
The woman who will soon
take a lover shaves her legs in the bath,
considering:
Would knowing or not knowing that she does this please him more ?
Maple
The lake scarlets
the same instant as the maple.
Let others try to say this is not passion.
Lemon
The grated lemon rind bitters the oil it steeps in.
A wanted flavor.
Like the moment in love when one lover knows
the other could do anything now wanted, yet does not.
Sentence
The body of a starving horse cannot forget the size it was born to.
crossings as in traversals, contradictions, counterpoints of the heart though often not..
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3 comments:
I wonder why there is no single comment on this post. Jane is my favorite. Great pebbles. Thanks
MeM
Good to see another Hirshfield fan :) Thanks for stopping by
Most of my books are in storage right now, and I am trying to remember a Jane Hirshfield pebble about the moon... I'm not sure I've remembered it correctly...
The moon in a well,
the one that sees it blocks it.
Can you correct me on it?
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